


Rogue + Family + Home

by Kailene



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Turmoil, Family Feels, Loyalty + Family + Rogue + Hellfire, Missing Scene, Reimagined Scene, Riley-centric, S4e12, Team as Family, rogue mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kailene/pseuds/Kailene
Summary: She knows how bad it looks, but this is Mac... He needs help, not to be hunted and she isn't about to turn her back on him and risk losing him forever.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	Rogue + Family + Home

**Author's Note:**

> I'm calling this a pre-tag or a pre-reimagined scene as I was actually able to get this story written, beta'd, and posted before the episode aired, just barely. We know from previews that Mac goes rogue and that, somehow, Riley ends up with him. This is just me musing about some thoughts Riley might have while everything is going down around her and her decision to leave Phoenix and follow Mac.

  
_MacGyver has gone rogue_

  
It’s Matty’s words that are the deciding factor. Delivered flat and impassive, she’s all business as usual as she stands at the front of the War Room, like it’s just another mission briefing, like it’s just another terrorist or radical extremist that they’re going to run down and capture, make sure they’re taken out or taken down and locked away forever.

Like it’s not one of their own. 

The more she listens, the more the pit in her stomach grows and the fist around her heart tightens, so she tunes Matty out after that, tunes them all out. She doesn’t want to hear about their theories or hypotheses, doesn’t want to know any of their plans or tactics. She flat out _refuses_ to hear the orders that Matty and Russ are about to give.   
She doesn’t want to know just how far they both are willing to go, what— _who_ —they are willing to sacrifice to stop Codex.

And she understands…she _does_. She knows that Codex must be stopped. They _cannot_ be allowed to put whatever doomsday plot they have into play.

But not like this. 

There’s another way. There is _always_ another way.

Riley has learned a lot of things since joining this team and that lesson stands near the top. 

There is a buzzing in her ears and an itch under her skin and she needs to _move_ , to leave, because she can’t be a part of this…this…whatever it is that Phoenix is planning. 

All she has is half a plan and whole lot of stubborn determination. But that is all that _Team Improvise_ has ever needed to accomplish their goal and it’s all she needs now. 

She wants to rush from the room, just leave _right now_ , but she knows she can’t. Any sudden movements on her part will get her noticed, will get her questioned, and right now, she knows that she’d never stand up to that kind of scrutiny. Not from their team, but especially not from the likes of Matty Webber, who would see right through her and know her intentions in a second. At best, she would be put under 24/7 guard. At worst, she’d be locked up in a stripped-down interrogation room for the duration of what has dissolved into a living nightmare. 

Leaving Riley useless to help the one person who needs her the most right now.

So, Riley closes her eyes, blocking everything out as she bows her head just a little bit. She takes a deep, quiet breath in through her nose, holds it for a count of ten, then blows it out just as slowly and quietly through her pursed lips. She does it again, this time envisioning reaching out with invisible hands and grabbing a tight hold of the adrenaline that’s coursing through her body and the storm of emotions that are threatening to choke her, controlling them, forcing them to bend to her own will instead of her bending to theirs, just like Jack taught her to do. 

The crowd of people gathered in the War Room makes leaving—disturbingly, heart wrenchingly—easy to accomplish. Step by step, hands clenched around the wide straps of the backpack containing her backup laptop held tight against the front of her body, Riley backs up. Slipping slow and silent between the analysts that are gathered in rows that line the entire back half of the room, she gradually makes her way towards the door. 

The TAC teams are also in attendance. They have stationed themselves like a human wall along the full length of the glass windows, and they pay her no mind as she walks right by them. She stares straight ahead; she can’t bear to look at any of the men she, herself, has trained with on more than one occasion. 

The sight of them, fully combat geared with weapons in hand—knowing the reason _why_ they are there—makes bile rise in her throat. 

Riley clears the doorway and rounds the corner, then practically sprints past the elevator as she heads towards the stairs beyond, not even willing to risk the quiet _ding_ of the lift arriving and the _swish_ of the opening doors to give her away. 

Her boots land soundless on the treads as she takes the steps sometimes two or three at a time as she heads down to the lower levels and the destination she needs to stop at before she makes her escape and heads out of the building. 

Riley stops on the final landing and opens the door just a crack, listening for any sounds that someone might still be down on the security level. There shouldn’t be; both teams on duty are currently in the War Room. Still, she doesn’t want to get sloppy. She’s so close to her goal; she’s not about to forget her training and let her guard down.

The corridor is silent, and she opens the door just enough to slip through, easing it quietly closed behind her, then makes her way down the short corridor and into the large room at the end. 

The overhead lights automatically snap to life as Riley enters the Tactical Room. She makes her way around the large planning table that takes up the center of the front office space and continues on, passing through the weapons chamber as she heads towards the open area at the very end. 

Riley sits down heavily on the first wooden bench as she enters the far room and stares at the locker in front of her. 

_Jack’s locker._

Despite how long he has been gone—and she doesn’t let her mind supply her with that length of time—and how many new security officers Phoenix has hired, this has always remained Jack’s. It hasn’t been cleaned out or given away. And in spite of not being able to even acknowledge the existence of the TAC teams currently up in the War Room getting ready to go on the hunt for her best friend, they all hold a special place in her heart for that gesture. It speaks volumes to the type of man that Jack is and the place he still holds in all of their hearts. 

“ _Jack_ … Riley whispers his name on a shuddery breath of air. “Really wish you were here, old man.”

She shakes her head at her own words, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she drops her head onto the top of her bag. She knows, without a single doubt, that if Jack were here that none of this would be happening. Riley is sure that Codex and File 47 would still have reared their heads and would still need to be stopped, but this…this… _mess_ —the family fractured and Mac in emotional and psychological turmoil and gone rogue—never would have happened. 

Jack would have kept them together throughout the wreck that was Phoenix being taken down and all of them disbanded. He would had been the tether that kept them from drifting and getting lost as they each went their separate ways in new areas of employment. 

He would have been beside Mac through his father coming back and then sacrificing his own life to save his son’s. Jack would have been right there, a rock-solid steady presence at Mac’s side for all the shocking revelations about his mother and the appearance of his lost-long, crazy aunt. 

They would be facing this newest world-ending crisis _together_. 

_Shoulda, coulda, woulda… We don’t ever play that game. You know that, Ri._

His easy drawl is as clear as if he were sitting right there beside her, and she answers him aloud as she has so many other times since he was called away. 

“I know, Jack, alright… _I know_.” Riley answers quietly, frustration-laced words muffled by the canvas of her backpack. “I know. It’s just…”

She trails off with a shuddering exhale, unable to finish, not knowing how to finish her sentence or what she even wanted to say. 

Where to even start. 

What to even _do_. 

Riley lifts her head and drags both hands through her hair, pushing wayward curls off her face as the enormity of what she’s doing, the importance of what she needs to accomplish— _succeed at_ —suddenly comes crashing down on her. It’s overwhelming, unsurmountable, and her head spins with plans and ideas and scenarios and horrible, world-ending conclusions. 

_Know your goal. Keep y’eye on the prize, but don’t let it blind you or suffocate you. Break it down t’get there. Y’got this, sweetheart._

Jack’s advice sounds in her mind as sharp as the day he took her deep into the woods for a “controlled environment” mission training. His presence beside her that day as she ran point was calm and reassuring and solid. 

She latches onto those same feelings now and takes a deep, steadying breath. 

“Alright, yeah… Yeah, I can do this. Pity party over. Goal…” she starts, voice strong and confidence growing as she lists them simply and without emotions. “Find Mac, stop Codex.” 

Two goals. One just as important as the other, because she will not see Mac as any sort of acceptable casualty in any of this, no matter she has to do. 

“Step one… Well, finding Mac would be ideal, but considering that he doesn’t want to be found and nobody but you, Jack, would be able to find him.... And since _he’s_ going after Codex, I’m just gonna have to go browsing through their systems and make enough of a nuisance out of myself so they come bring me to their super-secret, hidey-hole themselves. And then convince them that they need an ace hacker and I’ve changed my loyalties.” 

She places her laptop bag on the floor at her feet and flips it open. “Two steps. Easy peasey, right?” She doesn’t let herself worry about anything beyond that. Not about convincing Mac to let her help him, or how far his aunt has gotten into his head and twisted him up, what his plans may be, or the amount of help and recovery he’s going to need when all of this is over. 

Getting to his side is the important goal. Together they’ll figure the rest out. 

Riley enters the code for the combination lock attached to the front of Jack’s locker and the door swings open silently. His TAC vest and black shirts are still hung inside and a wave of nostalgia stabs at her heart, but she pushes it aside to think about another time. Her presence will be missed soon enough, and she has to be out of the building and well on her way before that happens. 

She reaches into the locker and takes out Jack’s Go-bag, quickly opening it up and grabbing the extra laptop batteries and miscellaneous cords that he always brought with them on mission, and slips them into her own bag beside her backup rig. Her usual laptop is still sitting open on the table in the War Room, and despite all the teasing about being a ‘dad’ she gave Jack over the years, she’s eternally grateful for his foresight at being prepared for not only himself, but all of them as well. She reaches back in and grabs the small, zippered pouch that’s in the side pocket, filled with _Mac’s do-dads and thingamabobs_ as he always liked to call them. Riley drops those in her bag as well, knowing with Mac you never you know what’s going to come in handy. 

Riley puts the Go-bag back on the bottom shelf and stands up, keying in another code for an additional door on the inside of the locker and her other reason for coming here. The door pops open and a small drawer slides smoothly out; Jack’s personal weapons are meticulously stored inside. 

She reaches inside and carefully pulls out one of his small handguns—his Sig p232--checks to see if it’s loaded, then slides it into the side pocket of her bag along with a couple of extra clips. Riley doesn’t usually carry a gun, but she has been trained to use them, has personally used the exact one she just put into her bag. 

She knows that Codex is going to be playing for keeps, and so is she.

Riley grabs one other item from the draw before shutting it and closing the locker. She lifts one of her legs, resting her foot on the bench, and pulls up the pantleg of her jeans. She wraps the leather strap of the sheath she has in her hands around her lower leg before tucking it down inside her boot and sliding the small tactical knife inside. 

Rolling her pant leg back down, Riley grabs her cell out of her bag, drops it on the floor, and crushes it with her boot. She scoops the remains of her phone off the floor and dumps it in the incinerator in the far corner, flipping the _ON_ switch before she heads back through the Tactical Room, pausing just briefly enough to check to make sure the corridor is still empty before she steps out. 

Riley moves silently down the hallway, slipping into the security stairwell that will take her away from the front exits and main parking garage and allow her to exit the back of the building and disappear. Her own car she’ll leave behind, opting instead to boost an old classic, something untraceable to any of today’s modern tech; a charge of auto theft is inconsequential in the grand scheme of what she is about to do.

She swings her backpack around and slips it onto both of her shoulders as she arrives at the lower level security door. She glances over her shoulder and sighs softly, thinking of what she is leaving behind in the War Room and hoping that she—and Mac—will be forgiven when all of this is said and done. 

Riley pushes the door open, bright sunlight momentarily blinding her as she moves outside into the warm afternoon air. The door glides noiselessly closed and Riley steps onto the concrete path…and gasps audibly, her steps faltering as someone suddenly appears directly in her path. 

“ _Bozer_ …” Riley’s heart is hammering in her chest. The door behind her doesn’t open from the outside and the path in front of her— _her path to Mac_ —is blocked. High, smooth cement walls line the pathway and Bozer stands right in the center, arms crossed over his chest and feet planted.

“Bozer… listen to me,” Riley implores, begs. She’s come this far, and she knows— _hopes_ —that she can appeal to the long-time best friend to aid her, to make the agent in him look the other way. 

“Riley—”

“No! Listen to me… _Listen_ , please. I know this all looks bad, looks _really_ bad. But this is Mac we’re talkin’ about, Bozer. _Mac_ … He’s had his world turned completely upside down and he’ hurting, Boz, and the fact that he freely admitted that…? We both know that means it’s so much worse than he said. And that bitch aunt of his is going to use that vulnerability, take advantage of his pain and use it. She’s going to use it and talk and reminisce about family and ply him with talks about _his duty_ and chosen paths and she’s gonna use it all to manipulate him, use his insecurities and his guilt to try to brainwash him into thinking that her insane idea is all about science and reason and that it’s the right path to take.”

Riley takes a step closer to Bozer, places her small hand on top of his forearm. She has to swallow down the emotions that are threatening to choke her and her voice wavers as she continues speaking. 

“I know he needs to be stopped from doing that, stopped from going dark side. But, Bozer… Mac needs help, not to be hunted. If Matty and Russ send teams after him…” She shakes her head, her grip tightening on his arm. “He’ll go to ground. We both know that. He’ll go so far off the radar that no one, not even Jack, will be able to find him. We’ll lose him, Bozer. We’ll lose him forever, and I’m not about to let that happen. I won’t turn my back on him.”

Hot tears fill her eyes and she blinks at them, not bothering to wipe them away as they fall down her cheeks. “Family is supposed to be there for each other, no matter what, and somewhere along the way we all forgot about that.” 

Bozer uncrosses his arms, dislodging her own as he reaches inside the pocket of the jacket that he’s wearing. 

“ _Ice, Ice Baby_ …” He sings smoothly, mouth turning up into a warm smile as he holds up a phone. 

Riley sobs out a laugh, memory coming back clear and bright as if it was just yesterday and not almost three years since Jack sang that song, dancing ridiculously across Mac’s back deck as Mac explained what the song meant and its importance to them. 

Ice… In case of emergency. 

Like Jack’s old Delta Unit had— _still has_ —the phrase "Jungle Book" as a cry for help, with their team—thank you very much, Jack—it was the old Vanilla Ice song. 

Riley nods at her friend and takes the burner with shaking fingers, sliding it into the inside pocket of her leather jacket. 

“If there’s _anyone_ who can get through to Mac, pull him back from the edge and remind him that family, _real family_ isn’t determined by DNA, it’s you, Riley Davis.” He reaches up and wipes the tears from her face. “I’ve got your back. You don’t worry about anything other than finding Mac… And bringing our boy home. Bringing _both_ of you home, you hear me? Everything beyond that we’ll all figure out together, as a family.” 

Riley wraps both of her arms around Bozer and pulls him into a tight hug. “I will. I promise,” she whispers in his ear. 

She tightens the hug one more time, pulling him in close before she lets go and steps around him, not looking back as she walks away. 


End file.
